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tle: A Cynic Looks at Life

ttle Blue Book #1099

thor: Ambrose Bierce

itor: E. Haldeman-Julius

lease Date: July 21, 2005 [EBook #16340]

nguage: English

* START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CYNIC LOOKS AT LIFE **

oduced by Ted Garvin, Dave Macfarlane and the Online

stributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

LITTLE BLUE BOOK NO. 1099

Edited by E. Haldeman-Julius



A Cynic Looks at Life



Ambrose Bierce

HALDEMAN-JULIUS COMPANYGIRARD, KANSAS

Copyright, 1912, by

The Neale Publishing Company

Reprinted by Special Arrangement With Albert and Charles Boni, New York

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

A CYNIC LOOKS AT LIFE



CIVILIZATION



I

e question "Does civilization civilize?" is a fine example of petit

incipii , and decides itself in the affirmative; for civilization mu

eds do that from the doing of which it has its name. But it is n

cessary to suppose that he who propounds is either unconscious

s lapse in logic or desirous of digging a pitfall for the feet of thos

ho discuss; I take it he simply wishes to put the matter in a

pressive way, and relies upon a certain degree of intelligence

e interpretation.

oncerning uncivilized peoples we know but little except what we a

d by travelers—who, speaking generally, can know very little but th

ct of uncivilization, as shown in externals and irrelevances, and a

oreover, greatly given to lying. From the savages we hear very littl

dging them in all things by our own standards in default of

owledge of theirs, we necessarily condemn, disparage and belitt

ne thing that civilization certainly has not done is to make

elligent enough to understand that the contrary of a virtue is n

cessarily a vice. Because, as a rule, we have but one wife an

veral mistresses each it is not certain that polygamy is everywhe

nor, for that matter, anywhere—either wrong or inexpedien

ecause the brutality of the civilized slave owners and dealeeated a conquering sentiment against slavery it is not intelligent

sume that slavery is a maleficent thing amongst Oriental people

r example) where the slave is not oppressed. Some of these sam

rientals whom we are pleased to term half-civilized have no rega

r truth. "Takest thou me for a Christian dog," said one of them, "tha

ould be the slave of my word?" So far as I can perceive, thhristian dog" is no more the slave of his word than the Tru



eliever, and I think the savage—allowing for the fact that h

veracity has dominion over fewer things—as great a liar as either

em. For my part, I do not know what, in all circumstances, is right

ong; but I know that, if right, it is at least stupid, to judge a

civilized people by the standards of morality and intelligence set u

civilized ones. Life in civilized countries is so complex that me

ere have more ways to be good than savages have, and more to bd; more to be happy, and more to be miserable. And in each wa

be good or bad, their generally superior knowledge—the

owledge of more things—enables them to commit great

cesses than the savage can. The civilized philanthropist wrea

on his fellows a ranker philanthropy, the civilized rascal a sturdi

scality. And—splendid triumph of enlightenment!—the twaracters are, in civilization, frequently combined in one person.

now of no savage custom or habit of thought which has not its ma

civilized countries. For every mischievous or absurd practice of th

tural man I can name you one of ours that is essentially the sam

nd nearly every custom of our barbarian ancestors in historic time

rsists in some form today. We make ourselves look formidable ttle—for that matter, we fight. Our women paint their faces. We fe

obligatory to dress more or less alike, inventing the most ingenio

asons for doing so and actually despising and persecuting thos

ho do not care to conform. Almost within the memory of livin

rsons bearded men were stoned in the streets; and a clergyman

ew York who wore his beard as Christ wore his, was put into jail anriously persecuted till he died.

vilization does not, I think, make the race any better. It makes me

ow more: and if knowledge makes them happy it is useful an

sirable. The one purpose of every sane human being is to b

ppy. No one can have any other motive than that. There is no suc

ng as unselfishness. We perform the most "generous" and "secrificing" acts because we should be unhappy if we did not. W



ove on lines of least reluctance. Whatever tends to increase th

ggarly sum of human happiness is worth having; nothing else ha

y value.

e cant of civilization fatigues. Civilization, is a fine and beauti

ucture. It is as picturesque as a Gothic cathedral, but it is built upo

e bones and cemented with the blood of those whose part in all mp is that and nothing more. It cannot be reared in the ungenerou

pics, for there the people will not contribute their blood and bone

e proposition that the average American workingman or Europea

asant is "better off" than the South Sea islander, lolling under

lm and drunk with over-eating, will not bear a momen

amination. It is we scholars and gentlemen that are better off.

is admitted that the South Sea islander in a state of nature

ermuch addicted to the practice of eating human flesh; b

ncerning that I submit: first, that he likes it; second, that those wh

pply it are mostly dead. It is upon his enemies that he feeds, an

ese he would kill anyhow, as we do ours. In civilized, enlightene

d Christian countries, where cannibalism has not yet establisheelf, wars are as frequent and destructive as among the maneater

e untitled savage knows at least why he goes killing, whereas o

vate soldier is commonly in black ignorance of the apparent caus

quarrel—of the actual cause, always. Their shares in the fruits

ctory are about equal, for the chief takes all the dead, the general

e glory.



II

ansplanted institutions grow slowly; civilization can not be put into

ip and carried across an ocean. The history of this country is quence of illustrations of these truths. It was settled by civilized me

d women from civilized countries, yet after two and a half centurie

th unbroken communication with the mother systems, it is s

perfectly civilized. In learning and letters, in art and the science

vernment, America is but a faint and stammering echo of Europe

or nearly all that is good in our American civilization we are indebte

the Old World; the errors and mischiefs are of our own creatio

e have originated little, because there is little to originate, but w

ve unconsciously reproduced many of the discredited systems

rmer ages and other countries—receiving them at second hand, b

aking them ours by the sheer strength and immobility of the nation

lief in their novelty. Novelty! Why, it is not possible to make aperiment in government, in art, in literature, in sociology, or

orals, that has not been made over, and over, and over again.

e glories of England are our glories. She can achieve nothing th

r fathers did not help to make possible to her. The learning, th

wer, the refinement of a great nation, are not the growth of ntury, but of many centuries; each generation builds upon the wo

the preceding. For untold ages our ancestors wrought to rear th

everend pile," the civilization of England. And shall we now try

little the mighty structure because other though kindred hands a

ying the top courses while we have elected to found a new tower

other land? The American eulogist of civilization who is not prou

his heritage in England's glory is unworthy to enjoy his lessritage in the lesser glory of his own country.



e English, are undoubtedly our intellectual superiors; and as th

tues are solely the product of intelligence and cultivation—a rogu

ing only a dunce considered from another point of view—they a

r moral superiors likewise. Why should they not be? Theirs is

nd, not of ugly schoolhouses grudgingly erected, containing schoo

pported by such niggardly tax levies as a sparse and hard-handepulation will consent to pay, but of ancient institutions splendid

dowed by the state and by centuries of private benefaction. As

eans of dispensing formulated ignorance our boasted public scho

stem is not without merit; it spreads out education sufficiently thin

ve everyone enough to make him a more competent fool than h

ould have been without it; but to compare it with that which is not th

eature of legislation acting with malice aforethought, but the unnotet-growth of ages, is to be ridiculous. It is like comparing the laid-o

wn of a western prairie, its right-angled streets, prim cottages, an

ooden a-b-c shops, with the grand old town of Oxford, topped w

e clustered domes and towers of its twenty-odd great colleges, th

ry names of many of whose founders have perished from huma

cord, as have the chronicles of the times in which they lived.

is not only that we have had to "subdue the wilderness"; o

ucational conditions are adverse otherwise. Our political system

favorable. Our fortunes, accumulated in one generation, a

spersed in the next. If it takes three generations to make

ntleman one will not make a thinker. Instruction is acquired, b

pacity for instruction is transmitted. The brain that is to containined intellect is not the result of a haphazard marriage between

own and a wench, nor does it get its tractable tissues from a har

aded farmer and a soft-headed milliner. If you confess th

portance of race and pedigree in a horse and a dog how dare yo

ny it in a man?

do not hold that the political and social system that creates a

stocrac of leisure is the best ossible kind of human or anizatio



perceive its disadvantages clearly enough. But I do hold that

stem under which most important public trusts, political an

ofessional, civil and military ecclesiastical and secular, are held b

ucated men—that is, men of trained faculties and discipline

dgment—is not an altogether faulty system.

s a universal human weakness to disparage the knowledge that wnot ourselves possess, but it is only my own beloved country th

n justly boast herself the last refuge and asylum of the impoten

d incapables who deny the advantage of all knowledg

hatsoever. It was an American senator who declared that he ha

voted a couple of weeks to the study of finance, and found th

cepted authorities all wrong. It was another American senator whnfronted with certain hostile facts in the history of another countr

oposed "to brush away all facts, and argue the question o

nsideration of plain common sense."

epublican institutions have this disadvantage: by incessant change

the personnel of government—to say nothing of the manner of me

at ignorant constituencies elect; and all constituencies are ignorawe attain to no fixed principles and standards. There is no su

ng here as a science of politics, because it is not to any one

erest to make politics the study of his life. Nothing is settled; n

th finds general acceptance. What we do one year we undo th

xt, and do over again the year following. Our energy is wasted

d our prosperity suffers from, experiments endlessly repeated.very patriot believes his country better than any other country. Now

ey cannot all be the best; indeed, only one can be the best, and

lows that the patriots of all the others have suffered themselves

misled by a mere sentiment into blind unreason. In its activ

anifestation—it is fond of killing—patriotism would be well if it we

mply defensive; but it is also aggressive, and the same feeling thompts us to strike for our altars and our fires impels us over th



rder to quench the fires and overturn the altars of our neighbors.

all very pretty and spirited, what the poets tell us abo

ermopylæ, but there was as much patriotism at one end of th

ss as there was at the other.

atriotism deliberately and with folly aforethought subordinates th

erests of a whole to the interests of a part. Worse still, the fractiofavored is determined by an accident of birth or residence. Th

estern hoodlum who cuts the tail from a Chinaman's nowl, an

ould cut the nowl from the body, if he dared, is simply a patriot with

gical mind, having the courage of his opinions. Patriotism is fierc

a fever, pitiless as the grave and blind as a stone.



III

ere are two ways of clarifying liquids—ebullition and precipitatio

e forces the impurities to the surface as scum, the other sendem to the bottom as dregs. The former is the more offensive, an

at seems to be our way; but neither is useful if the impurities a

erely separated but not removed. We are told with tiresom

ration that our social and political systems are clarifying; but whe

the skimmer to appear? If the purpose of free institutions is goo

vernment where is the good government?—when may it bpected to begin?—how is it to come about? Systems

vernment have no sanctity; they are practical means to a simp

d—the public welfare; worthy of no respect if they fail of

complishment. The tree is known by its fruit. Ours is bearing cra

ples. If the body politic is constitutionally diseased, as I ver

lieve; if the disorder inheres in the system; there is no remedy. Thver must burn itself out, and then Nature will do the rest. One doe

t prescribe what time alone can administer. We have put o

minals and dunces into power; do we suppose they will effac

emselves? Will they restore to us the power of governing themey must have their way and go their length. The natural an

memorial sequence is: tyranny, insurrection, combat. In comb

erything that wears a sword has a chance—even the right. Histo

es not forbid us to hope. But it forbids us to rely upon numbers; th

l be against us. If history teaches anything worth learning it teache

at the majority of mankind is neither good nor wise. Whe

vernment is founded upon the public conscience and the pub

elligence the stability of states is a dream.

that moment of time that is covered by historical records we hav



undant evidence that each generation has believed itself wiser a

tter than any of its predecessors; that each people has believe

elf to have the secret of national perpetuity. In support of th

iversal delusion there is nothing to be said; the desolate places

e earth cry out against it. Vestiges of obliterated civilizations cov

e earth; no savage but has camped upon the sites of proud an

pulous cities; no desert but has heard the statesman's boast tional stability. Our nation, our laws, our history—all shall go dow

everlasting oblivion with the others, and by the same road. Bu

bmit that we are traveling it with needless haste.

can be spared—this Jonah's gourd civilization of ours. We hav

rdly the rudiments of a true one; compared with the splendors

hich we catch dim glimpses in the fading past, ours are as a

mination of tallow candles. We know no more than the ancients; w

ly know other things, but nothing in which is an assurance

rpetuity, and little that is truly wisdom. Our vaunted elixir vitae is th

t of printing. What good will that do when posterity, struck by th

evitable intellectual blight, shall have ceased to read what

nted? Our libraries will become its stables, our books its fuel.

urs is a civilization that might be heard from afar in space as

olding and a riot; a civilization in which the race has s

ferentiated as to have no longer a community of interest an

eling; which shows as a ripe result of the principles underlying it

asonless and rascally feud between rich and poor; in which one

fered a choice (if one have the means to take it) between America

utocracy and European militocracy, with an imminent chance

nouncing either for a stultocratic republic with a headsman in th

esidential chair and every laundress in exile.

ave not a "solution" to the "labor problem." I have only a story. Ma

d many years ago lived a man who was so good and wise thne in all the world was so good and wise as he. He was one



ose few whose goodness and wisdom are such that after som

me has passed their foolish fellowmen begin to think them gods a

asure their words as divine law; and by millions they are worshipe

rough centuries of time. Amongst the utterances of this man wa

e command—not a new nor perfect one—which has seemed to h

orers so preeminently wise that they have given it a name by whi

s known over half the world. One of the sovereign virtues of thmous law is its simplicity, which is such that all hearing mu

derstand; and obedience is so easy that any nation refusing is un

exist except in the turbulence and adversity that will surely come

When a people would avert want and strife, or, having them, wou

store plenty and peace, this noble commandment offers the on

eans—all other plans for safety or relief are as vain as dreams, ampty as the crooning of hags. And behold, here is it: "All thing

hatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so

em."

hat! you unappeasable rich, coining the sweat and blood of yo

orkmen into drachmas, understanding the law of supply an

mand as mandatory and justifying your cruel greed by thnseless dictum that "business is business"; you lazy workme

ling at the capitalist by whose desertion, when you have frightene

way his capital, you starve—rioting and shedding blood and torturin

d poisoning by way of answer to exaction and by way of exactio

u foul anarchists, applauding with untidy palms when one of yo

ward kind hurls a bomb amongst powerless and helpless womed children; you imbecile politicians with a plague of remed

gislation for the irremediable; you writers and thinkers unread

story, with as many "solutions to the labor problem" as there a

mong you those who can not coherently define it—do you really thi

urselves wiser than Jesus of Nazareth? Do you seriously suppos

urselves competent to amend his plan for dealing with ev

setting nations and souls? Have you the effrontery to believe th

ose who spurn his Golden Rule ou can bind to obedience of an a



titled an act to amend an act? Bah! you fatigue the spirit. Go get

your scoundrel lockouts, your villain strikes, your blacklisting, yo

ycotting, your speeching, marching and maundering; but if ye d

t to others as ye would that they do to you it shall occur, and th

ht soon, that ye be drowned in your own blood and your pic

cket civilization quenched as a star that falls into the sea.



THE GIFT O' GAB

book entitled Forensic Eloquence, by Mr. John Goss, appears

ve for purpose to teach the young idea how to spout, and th

rpose, I dare say, it will accomplish if something is not done

event. I know nothing of the matter myself, a strong distaste f

rensic eloquence, or eloquence of any kind implying a ma

ounted on his legs and doing all the talking, having averted me fro

study. The training of the youth of this country to utterance

emselves after that fashion I should regard as a disaster agnitude. So far as I know it, forensic eloquence is the art of sayin

ngs in such a way as to make them pass for more than they a

orth. Employed in matters of importance (and for other employme

were hardly worth acquiring) it is mischievous because dishone

d misleading. In the public service Truth toils best when not clad

oth-of-gold and bedaubed with fine lace. If eloquence does nget action it is valueless; but action which results from th

ssions, sentiments and emotions is less likely to be wise than th

hich comes of a persuaded judgment. For that reason I cannot he

nking that the influence of Bismarck in German politics was mo

holesome than is that of Mr. John Temple Graves.

or eloquence per se—considered merely as an art of pleasing—tertain something of the respect evoked by success; for it alway

eases at least the speaker. It is to speech what an ornate style is

iting—good and pleasant enough in its time and place and, li

e-crust and the evening girl, destitute of any basis in commo

nse. Forensic eloquence, on the contrary, has an all too sufficie

undation in reason and the order of things: it promotes the ambitiotricksters and advances the fortunes of rogues. For I take it that th



ceros, the Mirabeaus, the Burkes, the O'Connells, the Patri

enrys and the rest of them—pets of the text-bookers and scourge

youth—belong in either the one category or the other, or in bot

nyhow I find it impossible to think of them as highminded men an

ht-forth statesmen—with their actors' tricks, their devices of th

untenance, inventions of gesture and other cunning expedien

ving nothing to do with the matter in hand. Extinction of the oratold to be the most beneficent possibility of evolution. If Mr. Goss ha

ne anything to retard that blessed time when the Bourke Cockran

all cease from troubling and the eary be at rest he is an enemy

s race.

What!" exclaims the thoughtless reader—I have but one—"are n

e great forensic speeches by the world's famous orators goo

ading? Considering them merely as literature do you not derive

gh and refining pleasure from them?" I do not: I find them turgid an

mid no end. They are bad reading, though they may have bee

od hearing. In order to enjoy them one must have in memory wha

deed, one is seldom permitted to forget: that they were addresse

the ear; and in imagination one must hold some shadowmulacrum of the orator himself, uttering his work. These conditio

ing fulfilled there remains for application to the matter of th

scourse too little attention to get much good of it, and the total effe

confusion. Literature by which the reader is compelled to bear

nd the producer and the circumstances under which it wa

oduced can be spared.



NATURA BENIGNA

is not always on remote islands peopled with pagans that gre

sasters occur, as memory witnesseth. Nor are the forces of natuadequate to production of a fiercer throe than any that we hav

own. The situation is this: we are tied by the feet to a fragile sh

perfectly confining a force powerful enough under favorin

nditions, to burst it asunder and set the fragments wallowing an

nding together in liquid flame, in the blind fury of a readjustmen

ay, it needs no such stupendous cataclysm to depeople this uneab. Let but a square mile be blown out of the bottom of the sea, or

eat rift open there. Is it to be supposed that we would be unaffecte

the altered conditions generated by a contest between the ocea

d the earth's molten core? These fatalities are not only possible b

the highest degree probable. It is probable, indeed, that they hav

curred over and over again, effacing all the more highly organizerms of life, and compelling the slow march of evolution to beg

ew. Slow? On the stage of Eternity the passing of races—th

trances and exits of Life—are incidents in a brisk and lively dram

lowing one another with confusing rapidity.

ankind has not found it practicable to abandon and avoid thos

aces where the forces of nature have been most malign. The tracthe Western tornado is speedily repeopled. San Francisco is s

pulous, despite its earthquake, Galveston despite its storm, an

en the courts of Lisbon are not kept by the lion and the lizard. In th

eruvian village straight downward into whose streets the crew of

nited States warship once looked from the crest of a wave th

anded her a half mile inland are heard the tinkle of the guitar ane voices of children at play. There are people living at Herculaneu

d Pom eii. On the slo es about Catania the oatherd endures w



hat courage he may the trembling of the ground beneath his feet a

d Enceladus again turns over on his other side. As the Hoang-H

es back inside its banks after fertilizing its contiguity with hydrate

hina-man the living agriculturist follows the receding wave, sets u

s habitation beneath the broken embankment, and again the Valle

the Gone Away blossoms as the rose, its people diving with Deat

is matter can not be amended: the race exposes itself to pe

cause it can do no otherwise. In all the world there is no city

fuge—no temple in which to take sanctuary, clinging to the horns

e altar—no "place apart" where, like hunted deer, we can hope

ude the baying pack of Nature's malevolences. The dead-line

awn at the gate of life: Man crosses it at birth. His advent is allenge to the entire pack—earthquake, storm, fire, flood, drough

at, cold, wild beasts, venomous reptiles, noxious insects, baci

ectacular plague and velvet-footed household disease—all a

rce and tireless in pursuit. Dodge, turn and double how he ca

ere's no eluding them; soon or late some of them have him by th

roat and his spirit returns to the God who gave it—and gave them.

e are told that this earth was made for our inhabiting. Our dea

loved brethren in the faith, our spiritual guides, philosophers an

ends of the pulpit, never tire of pointing out the goodness of God

ving us so excellent a place to live in and commending th

mirable adaptation of all things to our needs.

hat a fine world it is, to be sure—a darling little world, "so suited e needs of man." A globe of liquid fire, straining within a she

atively no thicker than that of an egg—a shell constantly crackin

d in momentary danger of going all to pieces! Three-fourths of th

lectable field of human activity are covered with an element

hich we can not breathe, and which swallows us by myriads:

With moldering bones the deep

hite



From the frozen zones to the trop

ght.

the other one-fourth more than one-half is uninhabitable by reaso

climate. On the remaining one-eighth we pass a comfortless an

ecarious existence in disputed occupancy with countless ministe

death and pain—pass it in fighting for it, tooth and nail, a hopelettle in which we are foredoomed to defeat. Everywhere deat

rror, lamentation and the laughter that is more terrible than tears—

e fury and despair of a race hanging on to life by the tips of

gers. And the prize for which we strive, "to have and to hold"—wh

it? A thing that is neither enjoyed while had, or missed when los

o worthless it is, so unsatisfying, so inadequate to purpose, so falshope and at its best so brief, that for consolation an

mpensation we set up fantastic faiths of an aftertime in a bett

orld from which no confirming whisper has ever reached us acro

e void. Heaven is a prophecy uttered by the lips of despair, but H

an inference from analogy.



THE DEATH PENALTY



I

own with the gallows!" is a cry not unfamiliar in America. There

ways a movement afoot to make odious the just principle; of "a lir a life"—to represent it as "a relic of barbarism," "a usurpation

e divine authority," and the rest of it. The law making murd

nishable by death is as purely a measure of self-defense as is th

splay of a pistol to one diligently endeavoring to kill witho

ovocation. It is in precisely the same sense an admonition,

arning to abstain from crime. Society says by that law: "If you kill onus you die," just as by display of the pistol the individual whose l

attacked says: "Desist or be shot." To be effective the warning

her case must be more than an idle threat. Even the most unearth

asoner among the anti-hanging unfortunates would hardly expect

ghten away an assassin who knew the pistol to be unloaded. O

urse these queer illogicians can not be made to understand their position commits them to absolute non-resistance to any kind

gression; and that is fortunate for the rest of us, for if as Christian

ey frankly and consistently took that ground we should be under th

serable necessity of respecting them.

e have good reason to hold that the horrible prevalence of murd

this country is due to the fact that we do not execute our laws—the death penalty is threatened but not inflicted—that the pistol is n

aded. In civilized countries where there is enough respect for th

ws to administer them, there is enough to obey them. While man s

s as much of the ancestral brute as his skin can hold witho

acking we shall have thieves and demagogues and anarchists an

sassins and persons with a private system of lexicography whfine murder as disease and hanging as murder, but in all this welt

crime and stu idit are areas where human life is com arative



cure against the human hand. It is at least a significant coincidenc

at in these the death penalty for murder is fairly well enforced

dges who do not derive any part of their authority from those f

hose restraint and punishment they hold it. Against the life of on

iltless person the lives of ten thousand murderers count for nothin

eir hanging is a public good, without reference to the crimes th

sclose their deserts. If we could discover them by other signs tha

eir bloody deeds they should be hanged anyhow. Unfortunately w

ust have a death as evidence. The scientist who will tell us how

cognize the potential assassin, and persuade us to kill him, will b

e greatest benefactor of his century.

hat would these enemies of the gibbet have—these linescendants of the drunken mobs that hooted the hangman at Tybu

ee; this progeny of criminals, which has so defiled with the mud

animosity the noble office of public, executioner that even "in th

lightened age" he shirks his high duty, entrusting it to a hidden

named subordinate? If murder is unjust of what importance is

hether its punishment by death be just or not?—nobody needs

cur it. Men are not drafted for the death penalty; they volunteehen it is not deterrent," mutters the gentleman whose rud

refather hooted the hangman. Well, as to that, the law which is

complish more than a part of its purpose must be awaited w

eat patience. Every murder proves that hanging is not altogeth

terrent; every hanging, that it is somewhat deterrent—it deters th

rson hanged. A man's first murder is his crime, his second is ours

e socialists, it seems, believe with Alphonse Karr, in th

pediency of abolishing the death penalty; but apparently they do n

ld, with him, that the assassins should begin. They want the state

gin, believing that the magnanimous example will effect a chang

heart in those about to murder. This, I take it, is the meaning of the

sertion that death penalties have not the deterring influence thprisonment for life carries. In this they obviously err: death deters



ast the person who suffers it—he commits no more murde

hereas the assassin who is imprisoned for life and immune fro

rther punishment may with impunity kill his keeper or whomsoev

may be able to get at. Even as matters now are, incessa

gilance is required to prevent convicts in prison from murdering the

endants and one another. How would it be if the "life-termer" we

sured against any additional inconvenience for braining a guacasionally, or strangling a chaplain now and then? A penitentia

ay be described as a place of punishment and reward; and und

e system proposed, the difference in desirableness between

ntence and an appointment would be virtually effaced. T

ercome this objection a life sentence would have to mean solita

nfinement, and that means insanity. Is that what these gentlemeopose to substitute for death?

e death penalty, say these amiables and futilitarians, create

ood-thirstiness in the unthinking masses and defeats its own en

is itself a cause of murder, not a check. These gentlemen a

emselves of "the unthinking masses"—they do not know how

nk. Let them try to trace and lucidly expound the chain of motivng between the knowledge that a murderer has been hanged an

e wish to commit a murder. How, precisely, does the one beget th

her? By what unearthly process of reasoning does a man turnin

way from the gallows persuade himself that it is expedient to inc

e danger of hanging? Let us have pointed out to us the sever

eps in that remarkable mental progress. Obviously, the thing surd; one might as reasonably say that contemplation of a pitte

ce will make a man wish to go and catch smallpox, or the spectac

an amputated limb on the scrap-heap of a hospital tempt him to c

his arm or renounce his leg.

n eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth," say the opponents of th

ath penalty, "is not justice; it is revenge and unworthy of a Christiavilization." It is exact justice: nobody can think of anything mo



curately just than such punishments would be, whatever the motiv

awarding them. Unfortunately such a system is not practicable, b

who denies its justice must deny also the justice of a bushel of co

r a bushel of corn, a dollar for a dollar, service for service. We ca

t undertake by such clumsy means as laws and courts to do to th

minal exactly "what he has done to his victim, but to demand a li

r a life is simple, practicable, expedient and (therefore) right.

aking the life of a murderer does not restore the life he too

erefore it is a most illogical punishment. Two wrongs do not make

ht."

ere's richness! Hanging an assassin is illogical because it does n

store the life of his victim; incarceration is logical; thereforcarceration does—quod, erat demonstrandum.

wo wrongs certainly do not make a right, but the veritable thing

spute is whether taking the life of a life-taker is a wrong. So nake

d unashamed an example of petitio principii would disgrace

bater in a pinafore. And these wonder-mongers have the effronte

babble of "logic"! Why, if one of them were to meet a syllogism in

nely road he would run away in a hundred and fifty directions a

rd as ever he could hoof it. One is almost ashamed to dispute w

ch intellectual cloutlings.

hatever an individual may rightly do to protect himself society m

htly do to protect him, for he is a part of itself. If he may rightly tae in defending himself society may rightly take life in defending hi

society may rightly take life in defending him it may rightly threate

take it. Having rightly and mercifully threatened to take it, it not on

htly may take it, but expediently must.



II

e law of a life for a life does not altogether prevent murder. No la

n altogether prevent any form of crime, nor is it desirable thatould. Doubtless God could so have created us that our sense

ht and justice could have existed without contemplation of injustic

d wrong; as doubtless he could so have created us that we cou

ve felt compassion without a knowledge of suffering; but he did no

onstituted as we are, we can know good only by contrast with ev

ur sense of sin is what our virtues feed upon; in the thin air iversal morality the altar-fires of honor and the beacons

nscience could not be kept alight. A community without crime wou

a community without warm and elevated sentiments—without th

nse of justice, without generosity, without courage, without merc

thout magnanimity—a community of small, smug sou

interesting to God and uncoveted by the Devil. We can have, anhave, too much crime, no doubt; what the wholesome proportion

ne can tell. Just now we are running a good deal to murder, but h

ho can gravely attribute that phenomenon, or any part of it,

liction of the death penalty, instead of to virtual immunity from a

nalty at all, is justly entitled to the innocent satisfaction that com

being a simpleton.



III

e New Woman is against the death penalty, naturally, for she is h

d hardy in the conviction that whatever is is wrong. She has visites world in order to straighten things about a bit, and is in distre

st the number of things be insufficient to her need. The matter

portant variously; not least so in its relation to the new heaven an

e new earth that are to be the outcome of woman suffrage. The

n be no doubt that the vast majority of women have sentimen

jections to the death penalty that quite outweigh such practicnsiderations in its favor as they can be persuaded to comprehen

ded by the minority of men afflicted by the same mental malad

ey will indubitably effect its abolition in the first lustrum of the

litical "equality." The New Woman will scarcely feel the seat

wer warm beneath her before giving to the assassin's "unhand m

ain!" the authority of law. So we shall make again the operiment, discredited by a thousand failures, of preventing crime

nderness to caught criminals. And the criminal uncaught will treat u

a quantity and quality of crime notably augmented by the Christia

irit of the new regime.



IV

s to painless execution, the simple and practical way to make the

th just and expedient is the adoption by murderers of a system inless assassinations. Until this is done there seems to be no c

renounce the wholesome discomfort of the style of executio

deared to us by memories and associations of the tendere

aracter. There is, I fancy, a shaping notion in the observant min

at the penologists and their allies have gone about as far as th

n safely be permitted to go in the direction of a softer suasion of tminal nature toward good behavior. The modern prison ha

come a rather more comfortable habitation than the dangero

asses are accustomed to at home. Modern prison life has in the

es something of the charm and glamor of an ideal existence, li

at in the Happy Valley from which Rasselas had the folly to escap

hatever advantages to the public may be secured by abating thors of imprisonment and inconveniences incident to executio

ere is this objection: it makes them less deterrent. Let th

nologers and philanthropers have their way and even hangin

ght be made so pleasant and withal so interesting a soc

stinction that it would deter nobody but the person hanged. Ado

e euthanasian method of electricity, asphyxia by smothering in ros

aves, or slow poisoning with rich food, and the death penalty m

me to be regarded as the object of a noble ambition to the bovant , and the rising young suicide may go and kill somebody els

stead of himself, in order to receive from the public executioner

ppier dispatch than his own 'prentice hand can assure him.

ut the advocates of agreeable pains and penalties tell us that in thrker ages, when cruel and degrading punishment was the rule, an



as freely inflicted for every light infraction of the law, crime was mo

mmon than it is now; and in this they appear to be right. But on

d all, they overlook a fact equally obvious and vastly significant, th

e intellectual, moral and social condition of the masses was ve

w. Crime was more common because ignorance was mo

mmon, poverty was more common, sins of authority, and therefo

tred of authority, were more common. The world of even a centuo was a different world from the world of today, and a vastly mo

comfortable one. The popular adage to the contra

twithstanding, human nature was not by a long cut the same the

at it is now. In the very ancient time of that early English kin

eorge III, when women were burned at the stake in public for vario

enses and men were hanged for "coining" and children for thed in the still remoter period (circa 1530), when prisoners we

iled in several waters, divers sorts of criminals were disembowele

d some are thought to have undergone the peine forte et dureld-pressing (an infliction which the pen of Hugo has since mad

pular—in literature)—in these wicked old days crime flourished, n

cause of the law's severity, but in spite of it. It is possible that ow-making ancestors understood the situation as it then was a trif

tter than we can understand it on the hither side of this gulf of yea

d that they were not the reasonless barbarians that we think them

ve been. And if they were, what must have been the unreason an

rbarity of the criminal element with which they had to deal?

m far from thinking that severity of punishment can have the samstraining effect as probability of some punishment being inflicte

t if mildness of penalty is to be superadded to difficulty

nviction, and both are to be mounted upon laxity in detection, th

e will be complete indeed. There is a peculiar fitness, perhaps,

e fact that all these pleas for comfortable punishment should b

ged at a time when there appears to be a general disposition lict no punishment at all. There are, however, still a few ol

shioned ersons who hold it obvious that one who is ambitious



eak the laws of his country will not with so light a heart and so a

indifference incur the peril of a harsh penalty as he will the chanc

one more nearly resembling that which he would himself select.



V

ter lying for more than a century dead I was revived, dowered with

w body, and restored to society. The first thing of interest thatserved was an enormous building, covering a square mile

ound. It was surrounded on all sides by a high, strong wall of hew

one upon which armed sentinels paced to and fro. In one face of th

all was a single gate of massive iron, strongly guarded. Wh

miring the Cyclopean architecture of the "reverend pile" I wa

costed by a man in uniform, evidently the warden, with a cheerlutation.

olonel," I said, "pray tell me what is this building."

his," said he, "is the new state penitentiary. It is one of twelve,

ke."

ou surprise me," I replied. "Surely the criminal element must hav

creased enormously."

es, indeed," he assented; "under the Reform régime, which bega

your day, crime became so powerful, bold and fierce that arres

ere no longer possible and the prisons then in existence were soo

ercrowded. The state was compelled to erect others of greatpacity."

ut, Colonel," I protested, "if the criminals were too bold an

werful to be taken into custody, of what use are the prisons? An

w are they crowded?"

e fixed upon me a look that I could not fail to interpret as expressindoubt of my sanity. "What!" he said, "is it possible that the mode



nology is unknown to you? Do you suppose we practice th

tiquated and ineffective method of shutting up the rascals? Sir, th

owth of the criminal element has, as I said, compelled the erectio

more and larger prisons. We have enough to hold comfortably

e honest men and women of the state. Within these protecting wa

ey carry on all the necessary vocations of life excepting commerc

at is necessarily in the hands of the rogues, as before."

enerated representative of Reform," I exclaimed, wringing his han

th effusion, "you are Knowledge, you are History, you are the High

ducation! We must talk further. Come, let us enter this benig

ifice; you shall show me your dominion and instruct me in the rule

ou shall propose me as an inmate."

walked rapidly to the gate. When challenged by the sentinel, I turne

summon my instructor. He was nowhere visible. I turned again

ok at the prison. Nothing was there: desolate and forbidding, a

out the broken statue of Ozymandias,

e lone and level sands stretched far away.



IMMORTALITY

e desire for life everlasting has commonly been affirmed to b

iversal—at least that is the view taken by those unacquainted wriental faiths and with Oriental character. Those of us whos

owledge is a trifle wider are not prepared to say that the desire

iversal nor even general.

he devout Buddhist, for example, wishes to "live always," he has n

cceeded in very clearly formulating the desire. The sort of thing this pleased to hope for is not what we should call life, and not wh

any of us would care for.

hen a man says that everybody has "a horror of annihilation," w

ay be very sure that he has not many opportunities for observatio

that he has not availed himself of all that he has. Most persons g

sleep rather gladly, yet sleep is virtual annihilation while it lasts; ant should last forever the sleeper would be no worse off after

llion years of it than after an hour of it. There are minds sufficien

gical to think of it that way, and to them annihilation is not

sagreeable thing to contemplate and expect.

this matter of immortality, people's beliefs appear to go along w

eir wishes. The man who is content with annihilation thinks he wt it; those that want immortality are pretty sure they are immort

d that is a very comfortable allotment of faiths. The few of us th

e left unprovided for are those who do not bother themselves mu

out the matter, one way or another.

e question of human immortality is the most momentous that th

nd is capable of conceiving. If it is a fact that the dead live all oth

cts are in comparison trivial and without interest. The prospect



taining certain knowledge with regard to this stupendous matter

t encouraging. In all countries but those in barbarism the powers

e profoundest and most penetrating intelligences have bee

aselessly addressed to the task of glimpsing a life beyond this lif

t today no one can truly say that he knows. It is as much a matter

th as ever it was.

ur modern Christian nations profess a passionate hope and bel

another world, yet the most popular writer and speaker of his tim

e man whose lectures drew the largest audiences, the work

hose pen brought him the highest rewards, was he who mo

enuously strove to destroy the ground of that hope and unsettle th

undations of that belief.e famous and popular Frenchman, Professor of Spectacu

stronomy, Camille Flammarion, affirms immortality because he ha

ked with departed souls who said that it was true. Yes, monsieu

t surely you know the rule about hearsay evidence. We Angl

axons are very particular about that.

Flammarion says:

don't repudiate the presumptive arguments of schoolmen. I mere

pplement them with something positive. For instance, if yo

sumed the existence of God this argument of the scholastics is

od one. God has implanted in all men the desire of perfe

ppiness. This desire cannot be satisfied in our lives here. If theere not another life wherein to satisfy it then God would be

clever. Voila tout ."

ere is more: the desire of perfect happiness does not imp

mortality, even if there is a God, for

) God may not have implanted it, but merely suffers it to exist, as hffers sin to exist, the desire of wealth, the desire to live longer tha



e do in this world. It is not held that God implanted all the desires

e human heart. Then /why hold that he implanted that of perfe

ppiness?

) Even if he did—even, if a divinely implanted desire entail its ow

atification—even if it cannot be gratified in this life—that does n

ply immortality. It implies only another life long enough for atification just once. An eternity of gratification is not a logic

erence from it.

) Perhaps God is "a deceiver" who knows that he is no

ssumption of the existence of a God is one thing; assumption of th

istence of a God who is honorable and candid according to o

nception of honor and candor is another.

) There may be an honorable and candid God. He may hav

planted in us the desire of perfect happiness. It may be—it is—

possible to gratify that desire in this life. Still, another life is n

plied, for God may not have intended us to draw the inference th

is going to gratify it. If omniscient and omnipotent, God must b

ld to have intended whatever occurs, but no such God is assume

M. Flammarion's illustration, and it may be that God's knowledg

d power are limited, or that one of them is limited.

Flammarion is a learned, if somewhat theatrical, astronomer. H

s a tremendous imagination, which naturally is more at home in th

arvelous and catastrophic than in the orderly regions of familienomena. To him the heavens are an immense pyrotechnicon an

is the master of the show and sets off the fireworks. But he know

thing of logic, which is the science of straight thinking, and h

ews of things have therefore no value; they are nebulous.

othing is clearer than that our pre-existence is a dream, havin

solutely no basis in anything that we know or can hope to know. Oer-existence there is said to be evidence, or rather testimony,



surances of those who are in present enjoyment of it—if it

joyable. Whether this testimony has actually been given—and it

e only testimony worth a moment's consideration—is a dispute

int. Many persons living this life profess to have received it. B

body professes, or ever has professed, to have received

mmunication of any kind from one in actual experience of the for

e. "The souls as yet ungarmented." if such there are, are dumb estion. The Land beyond the Grave has been, if not observed, y

en and variously described: if not explored and surveyed, y

refully charted. From among so many accounts of it that we hav

must be fastidious indeed who cannot be suited. But of th

atherland that spreads before the cradle—the great Heretofor

herein we all dwelt if we are to dwell in the Hereafter, we have ncount. Nobody professes knowledge of that. No testimony reache

r ears of flesh concerning its topographical or other features; n

e has been so enterprising as to wrest from its actual inhabitan

y particulars of their character and appearance. And amon

ucated experts and professional proponents of worlds to be the

a general denial of its existence.

am of their way of thinking about that. The fact that we have n

collection of a former life is entirely conclusive of the matter. T

ve lived an unrecollected life is impossible and unthinkable, f

ere would be nothing to connect the new life with the old—no threa

continuity—nothing that persisted from the one life to the other. Th

er birth would be that of another person, an altogether differeing, unrelated to the first—a new John Smith succeeding to the la

om Jones.

t us not be misled here by a false analogy. Today I may get

wack o' the mazzard which will give me an intervening season

consciousness between yesterday and to-morrow. Thereafter I ma

e to a green old age with no recollection of anything that I knew, d, or was before the accident; yet I shall be the same person, f



tween the old life and the new there will be a nexus, a thread

ntinuity, something spanning the gulf from the one state to the othe

d the same in both—namely, my body with its habits, capacitie

d powers. That is I; that identifies me to others as my former self—

thenticates and credentials me as the person that incurred th

anial mischance, dislodging memory.

ut when death occurs all is dislodged if memory is; for between tw

erely mental or spiritual existences memory is the only nexnceivable; consciousness of identity is the only identity. To liv

ain without memory of having lived before is to live another. R

istence without recollection is absurd. There is nothing to re-exist.



EMANCIPATED WOMAN

hat I should like to know is, how "the enlargement of woman

here" by her entrance into various activities of commerciofessional and industrial life benefits the sex. It may please Hele

ougar and satisfy her sense of logical accuracy to say, as she doe

We women must work in order to fill the places left vacant by liquo

nking men." But who filled these places before? Did they rema

cant, or were there then disappointed applicants, as now? If m

emory serves, there has been no time in the period that it covehen the supply of workers—abstemious male workers—was not

cess of the demand. That it has always been so is sufficien

ested by the universally inadequate wage rate.

mployers seldom fail, and never for long, to get all the workmen the

ed. The field into which women have put their sickles was alrea

ercrowded with reapers. Whatever employment women havtained has been got by displacing men—who would otherwise b

pporting women.; Where is the general advantage? We may sho

gh tariff," "combination of capital," "demonetization of silver," an

hat not, but if searching for the cause of augmented poverty an

me, "industrial discontent" and the tramp evil, instead

gmatically expounding it, we should take some account of thormous, sudden addition to the number of workers seeking work

y one thinks that within the brief period of a generation the visib

pply of labor can be enormously augmented without profound

ecting the stability of things and disastrously touching the interes

wage-workers let no rude voice dispel his dream of su

aleficent agencies as his slumbrous understanding may joy irm. And let our Widows of Ashur unlung themselves in advocacy

ack remedies for evils of which themselves are cause it remai



e that when the contention of two lions for one bone is exacerbate

the accession of a lioness the squabble is not composable

rring up some bears in the cage adjacent.

dubitably a woman is under no obligation to sacrifice herself to th

od of her sex by foregoing needed employment in the hope that

ay fall to a man gifted with dependent women. Nevertheless ongratulations are more intelligent when bestowed upon h

dividual head than when sifted into the hair of all Eve's daughte

is is a world of complexities, in which the lines of interest are s

ertangled as frequently to transgress that of sex; and one ambitiou

help but half the race may profitably know that every effort to th

d provokes a counterbalancing mischief. The "enlargement oman's opportunities" has benefited individual women. It has n

nefited the sex as a whole, and has distinctly damaged the rac

e mind that can not discern a score of great and irreparab

neral evils distinctly traceable to "emancipation of woman" is a

pregnable to the light as a toad in a rock.

marked demerit of the new order of things—the régime of femammercial service—is that its main advantage accrues, not to th

ce, not to the sex, not to the class, not to the individual woman, b

the person of least need and worth—the male employer. (Fema

mployers in any considerable number there will not be, but those th

e have could give the male ones profitable instruction in grinding th

ces of their employes.) This constant increase of the army of labalways and everywhere too large for the work in sight—

cession of a new contingent of natural oppressibles makes the ve

eth of old Munniglut thrill with a poignant delight. It brings in th

uation known as two laborers seeking one job—and one of them

rson whose bones he can easily grind to make his bread; an

unniglut is a miller of skill and experience, dusted all over with th

idence of his useful craft. When Heaven has assisted th

aughters of Hope to open to women a new "avenue



portunities" the first to enter and walk therein, like God in th

arden of Eden, is the good Mr. Munniglut, contentedly smoothing th

ds out of the superior slope of his paunch, exuding the peculi

oma of his oleaginous personality and larding the new roadway w

e overflow of a righteousness stimulated to action by relish of h

wn identity. And ever thereafter the subtle suggestion of a f

ilistinism lingers along that path of progress like an assertion ofssessory right.

s God's own crystal truth that in dealing with women unfortuna

ough to be compelled to earn their own living and fortunate enoug

have wrested from Fate an opportunity to do so, men of busines

d affairs treat them with about the same delicate consideration th

ey show to dogs and horses of the inferior breeds. It does n

mmonly occur to the wealthy "professional man," or "promine

erchant," to be ashamed to add to his yearly thousands a part of th

lary justly due to his female bookkeeper or typewriter, who s

fore him all day with an empty belly in order to have a

bilimented back. He has a vague, hazy notion that the law of supp

d demand is mandatory, and that in submitting himself to it ying her a half of what he would have to pay a man of infer

iciency he is supplying the world with a noble example

edience. I must take the liberty to remind him that the law of supp

d demand is not imperative; it is not a statute but a phenomeno

e may reply: "It is imperative; the penalty for disobedience is failur

pay more in salaries and wages than I need to, my competitor wt; and with that advantage he will drive me from the field." If h

argin of profit is so small that he must eke it out by coining th

weat of his workwomen into nickels I've nothing to say to him. L

m adopt in peace the motto, "I cheat to eat." I do not know why h

ould eat, but Nature, who has provided sustenance for the wormin

arrow, the sparrowing owl and the owling eagle, approves th

edy man of prey and makes a place for him at table.



uman nature is pretty well balanced; for every lacking virtue there

rough substitute that will serve at a pinch—as cunning is the wisdo

the unwise, and ferocity the courage of the coward. Nobody

ogether bad; the scoundrel who has grown rich by underpayin

orkmen in his factory will sometimes endow an asylum for indige

amen. To oppress one's own workmen, and provide for th

orkmen of a neighbor—to skin those in charge of one's owerests while cottoning and oiling the residuary product of anothe

innery—that is not very good benevolence, nor very good sens

t it serves in place of both. The man who eats pâté de fois grase sweat of his girl cashier's face, or wears purple and fine linen

der that his typewriter may have an eocene gown and a pliocen

t, seems a tolerably satisfactory specimen of the genus thief; but not forget that in his own home—a fairly good one—he may enj

d merit that highest and most honorable title on the scroll

oman's favor, "a good provider." One having a claim to that glitteri

stinction should enjoy immunity from the coarse and troublesom

estion, "From whose backs and bellies do you provide?"

o much for the material results to the sex. What are the mosults? One does not like to speak of them, particularly to those wh

not and can not know—to good women in whose innocent mind

male immorality is inseparable from flashy gowning and the painte

ce; to foolish, book-taught men who honestly believe in som

otective sanctity that hedges womanhood. If men of the world w

ars enough to have lived out of the old régime into the new woustify in this matter there would ensue a great rattling of dry bones

dices of reform-ladies. Nay, if the young man about town, knowin

thing of how things were in the "dark backward and absym of time

t something of the moral distance between even so free-running

eature as the society girl and the average working girl of the factor

e shop and the office, would speak out (under assurance munity from prosecution) his testimony would be a surprise to th

rtila inous vir ins blows matrons acrid relicts and hair males



mancipation. It would pain, too, some very worthy but unobserva

rsons not in sympathy with "the cause."

ertain significant facts are within the purview of all but the very you

d the comfortably blind. To the woman of to-day the man of to-da

imperfectly polite. In place of reverence lie gives her "deference";

e language of compliment has succeeded the language of railleren have almost forgotten how to bow. Doubtless the advance

male prefers the new manner, as may some of her less forwa

sters, thinking it more sincere. It is not; our giddy grandfather talke

gh-flown nonsense because his heart had tangled his tongue. H

ated his woman more civilly than we ours because he loved h

tter. He never had seen her on the "rostrum" and in the lobby, nevd heard her in advocacy of herself, never had read her confessio

his sins, never had felt the stress of her competition, nor himse

sisted by daily personal contact in rubbing the bloom off her. He d

t know that her virtues were due to her secluded life, but thoug

ar old boy, that they were a gift of God.



A MAD WORLD

t us suppose that in tracing its cycloidal curves through th

thinkable reaches of space traversed by the solar system oanet should pass through a "belt" of attenuated matter having th

operty of dementing us! It is a conception easily enoug

tertained. That space is full of malign conditions incontinuous

stributed; that we are at one time traversing a zone comparative

nocuous and at another spinning through a region of infection; th

way behind us in the wake of our swirling flight are fields of plagud pain still agitated by our passage through them,—all this is a

od as known. It is almost as certain as it is that in our little annu

cle round the sun are points at which we are stoned and bric

tted like a pig in a potato-patch—pelted with little nodules

eteoric metal flung like gravel, and bombarded with gigan

asses hurled by God knows what? What strange adventures awin those yet untraveled regions toward which we speed?—in

hat malign conditions may we not at any time plunge?—to th

ength and stress of what frightful environment may we not at la

ccumb? The subject lends itself readily enough to a jest, but I a

t jesting: it is really altogether probable that our solar system, racin

rough space with inconceivable velocity, will one day enter a regio

arged with something deleterious to the human brain, minding us ad-wise.

y the way, dear reader, did you ever happen to consider th

ssibility that you are a lunatic, and perhaps confined in an asylum

seems to you that you are not—that you go with freedom where yo

l, and use a sweet reasonableness in all your works and ways; bmany a lunatic it seems that he is Rameses II, or the Holkar

dore. Man a lun in maniac ironed to the floor of a cell believe



mself the Goddess of Liberty careering gaily through the Te

ommandments in a chariot of gold. Of your own sanity and ident

u have no evidence that is any better than he has of his. Mo

curately, I have none of mine; for anything I know, you do not exis

r any one of all the things with which I think myself familia

nscious. All may be fictions of my disordered imagination. I rea

ow of but one reason for doubting that I am an inmate of an asylu

r the insane—namely, the probability that there is nowhere any suc

ng as an asylum for the insane.

is kind of speculation has charms that get a good neck-hold upo

ention. For example, if I am really a lunatic, and the persons an

ngs that I seem to see about me have no objective existence, whingenious though disordered imagination I must have! What

ever coup it was to invent Mr. Rockefeller and clothe him with th

ribute of permanence! With what amusing qualities I have endowe

y laird of Skibo, philanthropist. What a masterpiece of creativ

mor is my Fatty Taft, statesman, taking himself seriously, eve

lemnly, and persuading others to do the same! And this city

ashington, with its motley population of silurians, parvenoodles an

amps pranking unashamed in the light of day, and its savin

ntingent of the forsaken righteous, their seed begging bread,—d

abelais' exuberant fancy ever conceive so—but Rabelais

rhaps, himself a conception.

urely he is no common maniac who has wrought out of nothing thstory, the philosophies, sciences, arts, laws, religions, politics an

orals of this imaginary world. Nay, the world itself, tumbling uneas

rough space like a beetle's ball, is no mean achievement, and I a

oud of it. But the mental feat in which I take most satisfaction, an

hich I doubt not is most diverting to my keepers, is that of creatin

r. W.R. Hearst, pointing his eyes toward the White House an

dowing him with a perilous Jacksonian ambition to defile it. Th

earst is distinctly a treasure.



n the whole, I have done, I think, tolerably well, and when

ntemplate the fertility and originality of my inventions, the que

earthliness and grotesque actions of the characters whom I hav

olved, isolated and am cultivating, I cannot help thinking that

eaven had not made me a lunatic my peculiar talent might hav

ade me an entertaining writer.



EPIGRAMS OF A CYNIC

every hypocrite in the United States were to break his leg to-day th

untry could be successfully invaded to-morrow by the warlipocrites of Canada.

o Dogmatism the Spirit of Inquiry is the same as the Spirit of Ev

d to pictures of the latter it appends a tail to represent the note

errogation.

mmoral" is the judgment of the stalled ox on the gamboling lamb.

forgiving an injury be somewhat ceremonious, lest yo

agnanimity be construed as indifference.

ue, man does not know woman. But neither does woman.

ge is provident because the less future we have the more we fear

eason is fallible and virtue invincible; the winds vary and the need

rsakes the pole, but stupidity never errs and never intermits. Since

s been found that the axis of the earth wabbles, stupidity

dispensable as a standard of constancy.

order that the list of able women may be memorized for use eetings of the oppressed sex, Heaven has considerately made

ef.

rmness is my persistency; obstinacy is yours.

A little heap of dust,

A little streak of rust, A stone without a name—



Lo! hero, sword and fame.

ur vocabulary is defective; we give the same name to woman's lac

temptation and man's lack of opportunity.

ou scoundrel, you have wronged me," hissed the philosopher. "Ma

u live forever!"e man who thinks that a garnet can be made a ruby by setting it

ass is writing "dialect" for publication.

Who art thou, stranger, and what dost thou seek?" "I am Generosit

d I seek a person named Gratitude." "Then thou dost not deserv

find her." "True. I will go about my business and think of her nore. But who art thou, to be so wise?" "I am Gratitude—farew

rever."

ere was never a genius who was not thought a fool until h

sclosed himself; whereas he is a fool then only.

e boundaries that Napoleon drew have been effaced; th

ngdoms that he set up have disappeared. But all the armies an

atecraft of Europe cannot unsay what you have said.

Strive not for singularity in dress;

Fools have the more and men of sense the less.

To look original is not worth while,

But be in mind a little out of style.

conqueror arose from the dead. "Yesterday," he said, "I ruled ha

e world." "Please show me the half that you ruled," said an ang

inting out a wisp of glowing vapor floating in space. "That is th

orld."

Who art thou, shivering in thy furs?" "My name is Avarice. What ne?" "Unselfishness." "Where is thy clothing, placid one?" "Thou a



earing it."

o be comic is merely to be playful, but wit is a serious matter. T

ugh at it is to confess that you do not understand.

you would be accounted great by your contemporaries, be not to

uch greater than they.

have something that he will not desire, nor know that he has—suc

the hope of him who seeks the admiration of posterity. Th

aracter of his work does not matter; he is a humorist.

omen, and foxes, being weak, are distinguished by superior tact.

o fatten pigs, confine and feed them; to fatten rogues, cultivate nerous disposition.

very heart is the lair of a ferocious animal. The greatest wrong th

u can put upon a man is to provoke him to let out his beast.

hen two irreconcilable propositions are presented for assent th

fest way is to thank Heaven that we are not as the unreasoninutes, and believe both.

uth is more deceptive than falsehood, for it is more frequen

esented by those from whom we do not expect it, and so ha

ainst it a numerical presumption.

bad marriage is like an electrical thrilling machine: it makes yonce, but you can't let go.

eeting Merit on a street-crossing, Success stood still. Merit steppe

into the mud and went around him, bowing his apologies, whi

uccess had the grace to accept.

think," says the philosopher divine, "Therefore I am." Sir, here's rer sign: We know we live, for with our every breath we feel the fe



d imminence of death.

e first man you meet is a fool. If you do not think so ask him and h

l prove it.

e who would rather inflict injustice than suffer it will always have h

oice, for no injustice can be done to him.

ere are as many conceptions of a perfect happiness hereafter a

ere are minds that have marred their happiness here.

e yearn to be, not what we are, but what we are not. If we we

mortal we should not crave immortality.

rabbit's foot may bring good luck to you, but it brought none to thbbit.

efore praising the wisdom of the man who knows how to hold h

ngue ascertain if he knows how to hold his pen.

e most charming view in the world is obtained by introspection.

ve is unlike chess, in that the pieces are moved secretly and th

ayer sees most of the game. But the looker-on has on

comparable advantage: he is not the stake.

is not for nothing that tigers choose to hide in the jungle, f

mmerce and trade are carried on, mostly, in the open.

e say that we love, not whom we will, but whom we must. O

dgment need not, therefore, go to confession.

two kinds of temporary insanity, one ends in suicide, the other

arriage.

you give alms from compassion, why require the beneficiary to b

deserving object?" No other adversity is so sharp as destitution

erit.



ereavement is the name that selfishness gives to a particul

vation.

O proud philanthropist, your hope is vain

To get by giving what you lost by gain.

With every gift you do but swell the cloudOf witnesses against you, swift and loud—

Accomplices who turn and swear you split

Your life: half robber and half hypocrite.

You're least unsafe when most intact you hold

Your curst allotment of dishonest gold.

e highest and rarest form of contentment is aproval of the succeanother.

If Inclination challenge, stand and fight—

From Opportunity the wise take flight.

hat a woman most admires in a man is distinction among me

hat a man most admires in a woman is devotion to himself.

ose who most loudly invite God's attention to themselves when

ril of death are those who should most fervently wish to escape h

servation.

hen you have made a catalogue of your friend's faults it is only fa

supply him with a duplicate, so that he may know yours.

ow fascinating is Antiquity!—in what a golden haze the ancien

ed their lives! We, too, are ancients. Of our enchanting tim

osterity's great poets will sing immortal songs, and

chaeologists will reverently uncover the foundations of our palace

d temples. Meantime we swap jack-knives.

bserve, my son, with how austere a virtue the man without a ce



ts aside the temptation to manipulate the market or acquire

onopoly.

or study of the good and the bad in woman two women are

edless expense.

"There's no free will," says the philosopher;

"To hang is most unjust."

"There is no free will," assents the officer;

"We hang because we must."

ope is an explorer who surveys the country ahead. That is why w

ow so much about the Hereafter and so little about the Heretofore

emembering that it was a woman who lost the world, we shou

cept the act of cackling geese in saving Rome as part

paration.

ere are two classes of women who may do as they please; thos

ho are rich and those who are poor. The former can count o

sent, the latter on inattention.hen into the house of the heart Curiosity is admitted as the guest

ve she turns her host out of doors.

appiness has not to all the same name: to Youth she is known as t

ture; Age knows her as the Dream.

Who art thou, there in the mire?" "Intuition. I leaped all the way fromhere thou standest in fear on the brink of the bog." "A great fea

adam; accept the admiration of Reason, sometimes known a

yfoot."

eradicating an evil, it makes a difference whether it is uprooted

oted up. The difference is in the reformer.e Audible Sisterhood rightly affirms the equality of the sexes: n



an is so base but some woman is base enough to love him.

aving no eyes in the back of the head, we see ourselves on th

rge of the outlook. Only he who has accomplished the notable fe

turning about knows himself the central figure in the universe.

uth is so good a thing that falsehood can not afford to be without it

women did the writing of the world, instead of the talking, men wou

regarded as the superior sex in beauty, grace and goodness.

ve is a delightful day's journey. At the farther end kiss yo

mpanion and say farewell.

t him who would wish to duplicate his every experience prate of thlue of life.

e game of discontent has its rules, and he who disregards the

eats. It is not permitted to you to wish to add another's advantage

possessions to your own; you are permitted only to wish to b

other.

e creator and arbiter of beauty is the heart; to the male rattlesna

e female rattlesnake is the loveliest thing in nature.

ought and emotion dwell apart. When the heart goes into the hea

ere is no dissension; only an eviction.

you want to read a perfect book there is only one way: write it.

Where goest thou, Ignorance?" "To fortify the mind of a maide

ainst a peril." "I am going thy way. My name is Knowledge

coundrel! Thou art the peril."

prude is one who blushes modestly at the indelicacy of her though

d virtuously flies from the temptation of her desires.

e man who is always taking you by the hand is the same who if yo



ere hungry would take you by the cafe.

hen a certain sovereign wanted war he threw out a diploma

imation; when ready, a diplomat.

public opinion were determined by a throw of the dice, it would

e long run be half the time right.

e gambling known as business looks with austere disfavor up

e business known as gambling.

virtuous widow is the most loyal of mortals; she is faithful to th

hich is neither pleased nor profited by her fidelity.

one who was "foolish" the creators of our language said that has "fond." That we have not definitely reversed the meanings of th

ords should be set down to the credit of our courtesy.

oting gains its end by the power of numbers. To a believer in th

sdom and goodness of majorities it is not permitted to denounce

ccessful mob.

Artistically set to grace

The wall of a dissecting-place,

A human pericardium

Was fastened with a bit of gum,

While, simply underrunning it,

The one word, "Charity," was writTo show the student band that hovered

About it what it once had covered.

rtue is not necessary to a good reputation, but a good reputation

lpful to virtue.

hen lost in a forest go always down hill. When lost in a philosophy ctrine go up-ward.



e submit to the majority because we have to. But we are n

mpelled to call our attitude of subjection a posture of respect.

ascal says that an inch added to the length of Cleopatra's nos

ould have changed the fortunes of the world. But having said this, h

s said nothing, for all the forces of nature and all the power

nasties could not have added an inch to the length of Cleopatrase.

ur luxuries are always masquerading as necessaries. Woman is th

ly necessary having the boldness and address to comp

cognition as a luxury.

am the seat of the affections," said the heart. "Thank you," said thdgment, "you save my face."

Who art thou that weepest?" "Man." "Nay, thou art Egotism. I am th

cheme of the Universe. Study me and learn that nothing matters

hen how does it happen that I weep?"

slight is less easily forgiven than an injury, because it impliemething of contempt, indifference, an overlooking of o

portance; whereas an injury presupposes some degree

nsideration. "The blackguards!" said a traveler whom Sicilia

gands had released without ransom; "did they think me a person

consequence?"

e people's plaudits are unheard in hell.

enerosity to a fallen foe is a virtue that takes no chances.

here was a world before this we must all have died impenitent.

e are what we laugh at. The stupid person is a poor joke, the cleve

good one.every man who resents being called a rogue resented being on



s would be a world of wrath.

orce and charm are important elements of character, but it coun

r little to be stronger than honey and sweeter than a lion.

Grief and discomfiture are coals that cool:

Why keep them glowing with thy sighs, poor fool?

popular author is one who writes what the people think. Geniu

vites them to think something else.

sked to describe the Deity, a donkey would represent him with lon

rs and a tail. Man's conception is higher and truer: he thinks of h

somewhat resembling a man.

hristians and camels receive their burdens kneeling.

e sky is a concave mirror in which Man sees his own distorte

age and seeks to propitiate it.

onor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the lan

t do not hope that the life insurance companies will offer theecial rates.

ersons who are horrified by what they believe to be Darwin's theo

the descent of Man from the Ape may find comfort in the hope

s return.

strong mind is more easily impressed than a weak; you shall not sadily convince a fool that you are a philosopher as a philosoph

at you are a fool.

cheap and easy cynicism rails at everything. The master of the a

complishes the formidable task of discrimination.

hen publicly censured our first instinct is to make everybody defendant.



O lady fine, fear not to lead

To Hymen's shrine a clown:

Love cannot level up, indeed,

But he can level down.

en are polygamous by nature and monogamous for opportunity. It

aithful man who is willing to be watched by a half-dozen wives.

e virtues chose Modesty to be their queen. "I did not know tha

as a virtue," she said. "Why did you not choose Innocence

ecause of her ignorance," they replied. "She knows nothing but th

e is a virtue."

s a wise "man's man" who knows what it is that he despises indies' man."

he vices of women worshiped their creators men would boast of th

oration they inspire.

e only distinction that democracies reward is a high degree

nformity.ang is the speech of him who robs the literary garbage carts o

eir way to the dumps.

woman died who had passed her life in affirming the superiority

r sex. "At last," she said, "I shall have rest and honors." "Ente

id Saint Peter; "thou shalt wash the faces of the dear litterubim."

woman a general truth has neither value nor interest unless sh

n make a particular application of it. And we say that women a

t practical!

e ignorant know not the depth of their ignorance, but the learneow the shallowness of their learning.



e who relates his success in charming woman's heart may b

sured of his failure to charm man's ear.

What poignant memories the shadows bring

What songs of triumph in the dawning ring!

By night a coward and by day a king.

hen among the graves of thy fellows, walk with circumspectio

ne own is open at thy feet.

s the physiognomist takes his own face as the highest type an

andard, so the critic's theories are imposed by his own limitations

eaven lies about us in our infancy," and our neighbors take up th

e as we mature.

"My laws," she said, "are of myself a part:

I read them by examining my heart."

"True," he replied; "like those to Moses known,

Thine also are engraven upon stone."

ve is a distracted attention: from contemplation Of one's self onns to consider one's dream.

alt!—who goes there?" "Death." "Advance, Death, and give th

untersign." "How needless! I care not to enter thy camp tonig

ou shalt enter mine." "What! I a deserter?" "Nay, a great soldie

ou shalt overcome all the enemies of mankind." "Who are theyfe and the Fear of Death."

e palmist looks at the wrinkles made by closing the hand and sa

ey signify character. The philosopher reads character by what th

nd most loves to close upon.

Ah, woe is his, with length of living cursed,Who, nearing second childhood, had no first.

Behind, no limmer, and before no ra —



night at either end of his dark day.

noble enthusiasm in praise of Woman is not incompatible with

irited zeal in defamation of women.

e money-getter who pleads his love of work has a lame defens

r love of work at money-getting is a lower taste than love of moneye who thinks that praise of mediocrity atones for disparagement

nius is like one who should plead robbery in excuse of theft.

e most disagreeable form of masculine hypocrisy is that whi

ds expression in pretended remorse for impossible gallantries.

ny one can say that which is new; any one that which is true. For thhich is both new and true we must go duly accredited to the god

d await their pleasure.

e test of truth is Reason, not Faith; for to the court of Reason mu

submitted even the claims of Faith.

Whither goest thou?" said the angel. "I know not." "And whence haou come?" "I know not." "But who art thou?" "I know not." "Then tho

t Man. See that thou turn not back, but pass on to the place whenc

ou hast come."

Expediency and Righteousness are not father and son they are th

ost harmonious brothers that ever were seen.

ain the head, and the heart will take care of itself; a rascal is on

ho knows not how to think.

Do you to others as you would

That others do to you;

But see that you no service good

Would have from others that they couldNot rightly do.



unts are allowable in the case of an obstinate husband: bal

rses may best be made to go by having their ears bitten.

dam probably regarded Eve as the woman of his choice, an

acted a certain gratitude for the distinction of his preference.

man is the sum of his ancestors; to reform him you must begin wdead ape and work downward through a million graves. He is lik

e lower end of a suspended chain; you can sway him slightly to th

ht or the left, but remove your hand and he falls into line with th

her links.

e who thinks with difficulty believes with alacrity. A fool is a natur

oselyte, but he must be caught young, for his convictions, unliose of the wise, harden with age.

ese are the prerogatives of genius: To know without havin

arned; to draw just conclusions from unknown premises; to disce

e soul of things.

though one love a dozen times, yet will the latest love seem the firse who says he has loved twice has not loved once.

en who expect universal peace through invention of destructiv

eapons of war are no wiser than one who, noting the improveme

agricultural implements, should prophesy an end to the tilling of th

il.

parents only, death brings an inconsolable sorrow. When th

ung die and the old live, nature's machinery is working with th

ction that we name grief.

mpty wine bottles have a bad opinion of women.

vilization is the child of human ignorance and conceit. If Man knes insignificance in the scheme of things he would not think it wor



hile to rise from barbarity to enlightenment. But it is only throug

lightenment that he can know.

ong the road of life are many pleasure resorts, but think not that

rrying in them you will take more days to the journey. The day of yo

rival is already recorded.

e most offensive egotist is he that fears to say "I" and "me." "It w

obably rain"—that is dogmatic. "I think it will rain"—that is natur

d modest. Montaigne is the most delightful of essayists because s

eat is his humility that he does not think it important that we see n

ontaigne. He so forgets himself that he employs no artifice to ma

forget him.

On fair foundations Theocrats unwise

Rear superstructures that offend the skies.

"Behold," they cry, "this pile so fair and tall!

Come dwell within it and be happy all."

But they alone inhabit it, and find,

Poor fools, 'tis but a prison for the mind.

thou wilt not laugh at a rich man's wit thou art an anarchist, and

ou take not his word thou shalt take nothing that he hath. Ma

ste, therefore, to be civil to thy betters, and so prosper, f

osperity is the foundation of the state.

eath is not the end; there remains the litigation over the estate.

hen God makes a beautiful woman, the devil opens a new registe

hen Eve first saw her reflection in a pool, she sought Adam an

cused him of infidelity.

Why dost thou weep?" "For the death of my wife. Alas! I shall nev

ain see her!" "Thy wife will never again see thee, yet she does neep."



hat theology is to religion and jurisprudence to justice, etiquette

civility.

Who art thou that despite the piercing cold and thy robe

ggedness seemest to enjoy thyself?" "Naught else is enjoyable—

m Contentment." "Ha! thine must be a magic shirt. Off with it! I shiv

my fine attire." "I have no shirt. Pass on, Success."

norance when inevitable is excusable. It may be harmless, ev

neficial; but it is charming only to the unwise. To affect a spuriou

norance is to disclose a genuine.

ecause you will not take by theft what you can have by cheatin

nk not yours is the only conscience in the world. Even he whrmits you to cheat his neighbor will shrink from permitting you

eat himself.

od keep thee, stranger; what is thy name?" "Wisdom. And thine

nowledge. How does it happen that we meet?" "This is a

ersection of our paths." "Will it ever be decreed that we trav

ways the same road?" "We were well named if we knew."

othing is more logical than persecution. Religious tolerance is

nd of infidelity.

onvictions are variable; to be always consistent is to be sometime

shonest.

e philosopher's profoundest conviction is that which he is mo

uctant to express, lest he mislead.

hen exchange of identities is possible, be careful; you may choos

person who is willing.

e most intolerant advocate is he who is trying to convince himself.the Parliament of Otumwee the Chancellor of the Exchequ



oposed a tax on fools. "The right honorable and generou

ntleman," said a member, "forgets that we already have it in th

ll tax."

Whose dead body is that?" "Credulity's." "By whom was he slain

redulity." "Ah, suicide." "No, surfeit. He dined at the table

cience, and swallowed all that was set before him."

on't board with the devil if you wish to be fat.

ay do not despise your delinquent debtor; his default is no proof

verty.

ourage is the acceptance of the gambler's chance: a brave ma

ts against the game of the gods.

Who art thou?" "A philanthropist. And thou?" "A pauper." "Away! yo

ve nothing to relieve my needs."

outh looks forward, for nothing is behind! Age backward, for nothin

before.

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